The settling feeling of going to a dilapidated warehouse to get rid of the dead body of someone Rowan had known for years was heavy and nauseating. No matter how much Malfoy insisted that he come along with her, she couldn't help but feel as if she was dragging him to his ultimate demise. Even as he surveyed her, she only managed to hold his gaze for so long before she averted it, scared of what she might find once the reality hit him of what he was about to help her do.

Did she need anything else? It was a good distraction to wrench her mind away from thoughts of him. She pulled out of his grasp and turned away, her head collapsing into her hand. She just needed a few moments to process this, to steel herself, to get ready to face what she'd left at the warehouse.

She only came with what she had on; turning back, Rowan shook her head silently. "I'm ready." Then her eyes fell on him once more, and she stared. "You might want to...erm..." She let her hand rise and then fall uselessly in a vague gesture towards his body. "Wear something a little less conspicuous." As if Malfoy had ever had the occasion to be discreet. But this wasn't a ball they were headed to — not that he would ever think of bringing her to a ball or anything of the sort — Oh, Rowan stop thinking. "Something you wouldn't mind..." Getting blood on. "—if you got dirt on it."

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